


Swanhild the Blood Axe and Frømund the Nervous

by Coherent_Nonsense



Series: The End [5]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Asgardian society, F/M, Gen, Kid Fic, Pre-Thor (2011), star-crossed lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-06
Updated: 2018-01-06
Packaged: 2019-03-01 04:19:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13286832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coherent_Nonsense/pseuds/Coherent_Nonsense
Summary: Young Loki notices something going on between his tutor and his trainer.





	Swanhild the Blood Axe and Frømund the Nervous

The princes were late for their tutoring session with Swanhild, and neither had noticed. It was rare for Frømund to keep them past the end of training, and it was difficult to keep track of time when you were busy being pinned to the ground. Loki had his face pressed into the dirt of the training grounds and Sif’s elbow in his back for the umpteenth time when he noticed Swanhild charging down from the palace. He felt a brief surge of panic, apprehensive of her temper, before being overcome by curiosity. A meeting of the Blood Axe and the Nervous – this would be interesting.

“Excuse me, you cretinous brute!” Swanhild roared. “You have retained my pupils for far longer than your allotted time and I demand you release them.”

Frømund’s eyes widened in shock and confusion.

“I… no! Who are you?” He tried to exude authority, but the shaking in his voice and his fright after being shouted at somewhat undermined him.

“I do not need to answer to you,” Swanhild spat. Frømund recoiled involuntarily. “Thor, Loki, come here now.”

Sif took more than a moment to remove her elbow, staring in open-mouthed awe at the woman who had cowed their trainer.

“Sif…” Loki began, and she started.

“Oh, sorry,” and the elbow was gone.

Loki got up and walked swiftly to where Thor stood next to their tutor. He watched with interest as Swanhild shot a withering glare at Frømund and turned away to walk back up to the palace, but the trainer just stared at her, disbelief still firmly planted on his face. It was sad, really, how little authority Frømund truly possessed – Loki supposed his nervous disposition was the reason why such a skilled fighter was not a fully-fledged warrior. Before turning to follow Swanhild and Thor, Loki cast his gaze over Fandral and Sif, who simply looked confused, and then back to Frømund. The man’s expression had changed subtly. He was still shocked and more than a little frightened, but Loki thought he detected a glimmer of admiration directed at the back of the retreating Blood Axe.

 

***

 

Swanhild was a terrifying woman and an excellent scholar. She was unusually young for a governess and fairly pretty, in a frightening kind of way. Her features were sharp, her brown eyes icy, and her blonde hair pulled into a permanent tight bun. Coming from a fairly poor family, she needed to earn money to fund her studies, and since she possessed no magic, she could not earn it the way most young female scholars did. She became a tutor to solve this problem, and although she made more children cry than possibly any tutor in the history of Asgard, she was widely known as an exceptional teacher. It was through this reputation that she came to be employed by the House of Odin to educate the two young princes, teaching them for a few hours every day. In return, she could live in the palace, eat in the banquet hall for free, and had more than enough money to fund her studies.

The two princes hadn’t known what to expect when they first met Swanhild, since she was their first tutor, but in their experience pretty young ladies tended to give them plenty of freedom and fetch them things like honeyed milk to drink and foam weapons to play with. Swanhild did nothing of the sort. She ruled the study with an iron fist, refusing to waste time on fun and chatter. Her charges _would_ learn, and they would do it with discipline and respect. If either prince began to toe the line of unacceptable behaviour, he was immediately put back in his place with a swift slap on the wrist and a barrage of shouted reprimands. She had quickly earned the nickname of ‘Blood Axe’, although the princes would never dare say it near her.

Loki had to admit, though, that despite her violent demeanour and penchant for yelling, he quite liked Swanhild. She was one of the only people the princes came into contact with who would praise him more often than Thor, and based her treatment of them entirely on what they did rather than on which of them was more charming. Thor was not, by any stretch of the imagination, a natural scholar, and so he found concentrating on the lessons very difficult. His restlessness and lack of progress incensed Swanhild, whereas Loki’s quiet attentiveness pleased her to no end. He hoped that she would never notice his subtle efforts to distract his brother, because although he didn’t want to upset the favourable rapport he had established with the Blood Axe, it was just far too much fun to watch her shout at Thor.

It was Loki who first noticed Frømund’s interest in Swanhild.

One day after training, he noticed the man following them back up to the palace. When the boy would turn around, Frømund would pretend he was looking at something or trying to find someone, but his utter lack of subtlety and his nervous twitching betrayed him. Curious, Loki didn’t say anything to Thor and simply allowed Frømund to follow them, glancing back occasionally to see if he was still there.

“Good afternoon,” Swanhild greeted them when they reached her study. She had just left the room, probably in search of them. Loki was about to look around to check for Frømund when he heard a loud clatter and a string of panicked curses. Turning around to the source, he saw Frømund standing with his hands clasped together, looking for all the world like a naughty child. At his feet was a decorative shield that had been hanging on the wall moments ago, and Loki wondered how he had managed to displace it.

Swanhild, looking completely unimpressed, huffed. “Clumsy,” she said, and entered the study. Thor sniggered and followed her, but Loki lingered a moment to watch Frømund. The trainer smacked himself in the forehead.

“By the Norns, Frømund,” he muttered to himself before lifting the shield back into its rightful position. As he looked up, he spotted Loki. The boy raised an eyebrow. “Go away!” Frømund snapped at him, before remembering who the child was and looking mildly queasy. Loki buried a smirk at the man’s constant agitation and continued into the study.

 

***

 

It became more and more normal for Frømund to continue training past the time it was supposed to end. Even with no way to tell the time, Loki always knew because Frømund would glance anxiously up to the palace and lose interest in his pupils. If Swanhild appeared, an elated expression would flash across his face before the usual fear returned, and if she didn’t, he would end the training disappointed and moody.

It was obvious to the boy that Frømund was always trying to see Swanhild, but he couldn’t quite figure out why. Maybe he wanted to marry her, like Volstagg had married Hildegund. But why would anyone want to marry someone who terrified them? It was obvious that Frømund was afraid of the Blood Axe. Maybe that was what attracted him?

After two months of this strange form of courting, Loki decided to consult Thor. He had been wondering if anyone else had noticed Frømund’s behaviour, and perhaps his brother would have some insight into the matter that he didn’t, as much as he doubted that would be the case.

He waited until after training on one of the days where they would have an hour before meeting Swanhild. Well, forty minutes, because Frømund had continued training for an extra twenty.

“Thor,” he began as they walked back up to the palace. He had checked that Frømund wasn’t following them, and was certain they wouldn’t be overheard. “Have you noticed Frømund’s strange behaviour recently?”

“No,” Thor replied immediately – then he frowned. “Actually, yes. I have. He seems to have developed abysmal time management.”

Loki ‘mmm’ed in agreement, smiling. “He has, but have you noticed why?”

Thor shook his head. “Please don’t make me guess, Brother. You know how little I like such games.”

“The Blood Axe,” he said, and waited for Thor’s reaction. The only response was a blank face. “He wants to see the Blood Axe. Remember the time he followed us to the study? And how happy he becomes when she comes to fetch us because he has made us late?”

Thor shook his head slowly. “I am sorry, Brother, but I cannot say I have seen any of this.”

Perhaps it was his imagination after all? But Loki knew that wasn’t true. There was something going on between Frømund and Swanhild. He knew it.

“Well keep an eye out,” he said. “Perhaps you will see if you are looking.”

Loki considered it exceptionally good fortune that the most obvious evidence presented itself that very afternoon during their session with the tutor.

Swanhild was attempting to teach the two boys about the history of Asgard that afternoon. She had been talking about the Aesir-Vanir war for half an hour, and her frustration grew more and more as she realised how little Thor had read of the book she had given them. In fact, he claimed to have lost the book, much to Loki’s amusement. He had hidden his older brother’s book two days after they received them. This in itself was humorous, but what was truly hilarious was the location of the book – under Thor’s own bed. Loki had only intended for his brother to have to spend a few minutes searching, but Thor hadn’t even tried, probably quite pleased to be unable to study.

“But it is not important any more!” Thor exclaimed. “There are plenty of Vanir who are also Asgardian now.”

“It is of vital importance!” Swanhild was livid. “You, of all the children of this kingdom, should know this.”

“Why should I care what our fathers and grandfathers quarrelled about? I like the Vanir.”

“There are still plenty who do not, and you must learn the origin of that distrust.”

“It is a silly distrust.”

“Nonetheless–”

Swanhild was interrupted by the thundering of several piles of books tumbling to the ground and the ‘aarrghhh!’ of a man being buried by them.

The tutor and her charges stared at the lump of man and books for a moment in silence, dumbfounded. There was a muffled curse and a head popped up, causing a large book on mathematics to roll onto the floor. Frømund.

Thor gaped and turned to face Loki.

Loki stifled a chuckle.

“Frømund,” Swanhild said, he voice more neutral than the boys had ever heard it.

“Swanhild,” the man replied, embarrassed.

“Why are you here?”

“Oh, no reason. I just… wanted to borrow a book! This book!”

“That is a book about dressmaking.”

“Is it? Oh! I mean, of course it is. I… am making a dress.”

The princes were by this point thoroughly confused. Why hadn’t Swanhild screamed at him? Why hadn’t she thrown him out? Why _was_ he here?

“I think I will leave now.”

“I think you should.”

Frømund stood and, brushing himself off, exited the room with as much dignity as he could muster.

After that day, Thor believed Loki and they studied the man’s behaviour together. Eventually they came to the conclusion that he was hopelessly in love with Swanhild, and she felt sorry for him – hence the lack of shouting. It continued for many more months this way, the princes sniggering at Frømund’s many clumsy attempts to win Swanhild’s cold heart, until it was announced that Swanhild was engaged to be married to a nobleman who, impressed with her scholarly pursuits, had asked her family for her hand.

 

***

 

Frømund became unbearable in training. When he thought no one was looking, he looked like an abused puppy, his eyes big and his expression full to the brim with self-pity. When he interacted with his pupils, he was vile. Loki, as Frømund’s least favourite student, found himself the victim of a lot of highly unprofessional mockery, and simply couldn’t bring himself to feel sorry for the man. Thor and Sif, on the other hand – the princes had of course informed Sif and Fandral of their discoveries soon after the incident with the books – tried their best to cheer up their trainer. Fandral’s attitude was much like Loki’s, although for different reasons. According to him, there was no reason to pity Frømund because there were plenty more women to choose from, many of them much less terrifying than Swanhild.

Loki lost his patience with Frømund very quickly. He usually preferred maintain a calm exterior and not draw unneeded attention to himself, so he tried very hard to cope with Frømund’s sudden belligerence. Halfway through the fourth training session he gave up. After being thrown to the ground and pinned by an overenthusiastic Sif _again_ and listening to Frømund’s increasingly spiteful criticism _again_ , Loki told Frømund to shut his mouth and walked out of the training grounds.

He didn’t know how the others reacted because he refused to look back. Frømund shouted at him to return immediately, a panicked note creeping into his voice, and the boy took great delight in completely ignoring him.

Loki didn’t know where he was going. He was heading back to the palace, but there wasn’t anywhere he needed to be for another two hours, when he and Thor were due to meet with Swanhild. Perhaps he would go to the library, but first he needed to change out of his training garments.

“Loki!” In a corridor halfway to his chambers, the young prince ran into his mother. “Are you not supposed to be in training?”

He paused, biting on the inside of his lip. “Perhaps.”

“Are you injured?” Frigga strode over to her son, cupping his face in her hands. He was still shorter than her, but she no longer had to kneel to reach his level.

“No, mother, I am fine.”

“Then why have you left training early? Have you all been released? But where is Thor?”

“I left,” he said. Someone needed to know about Frømund’s unacceptable behaviour, and that person may as well be his mother. “Frømund has become extremely odious recently and I can no longer stand it.”

“Ah,” Frigga said, understanding dawning on her face. “Yes, well. This is a difficult time for Frømund.”

Loki’s curiosity was piqued. “In what way?”

“Well, dear… it’s quite complicated.”

“Tell me.”

Frigga frowned for a moment; then she placed a hand on her son’s shoulder and guided him down the corridor. At the far end there was an alcove, complete with soft chairs and a low table, which was constructed in such a way that hardly any sound escaped from inside. It had been built in the days where men and women not related by blood or marriage were not permitted to be alone together in private rooms, and were required to converse in public spaces. This rule ruined any chances of a private conversation, so the architects of the palace had built in many of these sheltered alcoves as a way to get around such inconvenient social conventions. Now, they simply provided a quiet place for chatter that was unlikely to be overheard.

Frigga led her son to this alcove and sat him down on one of the soft chairs. She took a seat beside him.

“Many things have changed in Asgard since the end of the Last Great War,” she began, tilted in her seat to face him. He looked up at her with wide and attentive eyes. “There are a lot more freedoms – our society is becoming less formal, less restrictive. It’s what the people need, after so much suffering. I, and many others, hope that these changes will make life better for our children. For you, Loki, and for Thor. For example, your friend Sif would never have been allowed to train as a warrior before. She would have had to run away and join the Valkyries.”

She paused here, and Loki nodded, unsure where she was headed.

She continued: “But some things are still as they were, and some families resist change.”

“Why would they resist the change if it is making things better?”

“Well, some do not believe it is. They prefer tradition and they trust in the values we have always held. It is often true – I myself tend to favour tradition in most things. Asgard is very ancient and the way we have been doing things has worked well. There are some things, however, that have always been unfair, but no one has had the courage to change them.”

This confused Loki. “Mother, if you think that, then why do you not change those things? You’re the Queen. Does Father not agree?”

She smiled warmly. “Sometimes it does not work that way. We cannot simply change anything we do not like. We have a duty to the people, and we must represent them and respect their desires as much as we must lead them. Some laws are not ready to change.”

“And Frømund? How does this relate to him?”

“Frømund has been in love with Swanhild, your governess, for some time,” she said, sadness creeping into her smile. Loki was silently pleased to have his theory confirmed by an outside source. “Her family never approved of the match, despite her fondness for him. They refused to give permission for the pair to marry, but gave it to Æinridi, who requested her hand recently. She does not dislike him, though it is obvious that her heart belongs to Frømund. This is what is upsetting your trainer – he is losing his love to another man. It is not fair if he is allowing this to affect his treatment of you children, but you must forgive him, Loki. One day you may know how he feels.”

Loki’s eyes narrowed slightly. There was a faraway look in his mother’s eyes, which she often had when she was thinking about one of her visions. He didn’t like the sound of what she was implying, but he had too many questions to ask to think about it right now.

“Why did she say yes, though? Why doesn’t she refuse to marry this… Æinridi?”

“She could refuse,” the Queen nodded. “She could. But she is a scholar, first and foremost. He has offered to fund her studies and research when they are married, and he is a nobleman, so many advantages come with his title. It is a promise of a good life for a young scholar – she can stop working here and focus on pursuing her interests. More than that, Æinridi is a good man and will treat her well. She may even grow to love him as much as Frømund, and he has the approval of her family. Were she to rebel and marry Frømund, the union would be unrecognised by her mother and father. While their union would be legal, her family would no longer have to acknowledge her as theirs, and she would receive no support from them. This may affect her career as a scholar, as many would view her disownment as a disgrace, and she would not receive the funding that Æinridi will provide. It is unfair – cruel, even – but it is a matter that lies in the hands of Swanhild’s family, and we cannot interfere.”

Loki chewed on his lip thoughtfully. This made sense in some twisted, ridiculous way, but he still didn’t understand why any of this should get in the way of a marriage. Wasn’t marriage supposed to be about love? Why did Swanhild’s family not like Frømund? What made Æinridi more acceptable to them? But he could see in his mother’s eyes that she did not want to answer any more questions. She looked oddly drained.

Frigga stood, offering a hand to her son. He took it and she pulled him to his feet, enveloping him in a warm hug. Neither spoke.

Following the conversation, Loki found that although he still couldn’t feel sorry for Frømund, he couldn’t bring himself to feel angry either.


End file.
